[stylist] Revised: The Christmas Bazaar Monologue

Wed Dec 21 20:25:38 UTC 2011

Hi Friends,

I've copied the new version below and attached it as well. I incorporated
some of Chris's ideas. I hope the setting of the old woman's living room is
more obvious, that it's clearer about whom she is speaking and that the end
has more of a punch. Some thought it wasn't clear where this conversation
was taking place. I had originally included a reference to Grandma's china,
but it wasn't enough. So, I added a few other things to drive home the
point, so to speak. Thanks for your suggestions and feedback. Let me know if
I've gone forward or backward. *grin*

Donna

The Christmas Bazaar Monologue

I saw Diane this morning -- Snyder, I think her name is now.  We had coffee
at Molly's.  It still bothers her, even after all these years.  Of course
I've never told her that I saw the whole thing; she feels bad enough as it
is.

No, sweetie, not Grandma's china. Come over here and sit on the sofa.

This won't last. She has so much energy, but we can hope. Where was I?  Yes,
well, it happened years ago, when I was the director of the interfaith
ministries and thrift shop.  It was a good job -- not much money but lots of
nice people, and Jim's practice was thriving, so it's not like I really had
to work.

Anyway, every December, we would have our Christmas Bazaar for families in
need.  People donated toys, mostly store-bought, but we received some
hand-made things too. The Tyler's gave us adorable doll cradles - he made
them in his shop and then she'd paint them.

I had another lady who made rag dolls with beautiful peasant dresses. That's
one of hers over there on the window seat. She gave it to me when I retired,
said we'd probably be having a granddaughter one of these days.

One old guy - I can't believe I don't remember his name!  But, he made
wagons and other toys, yoyos and puzzles, that sort of thing. And of course,
we had Susan.  She liked to knit and she brought in beautiful afghans all
year round - lap warmers, she called them - for our ladies in assisted care.

To tell you the truth, I was a bit skeptical when I first took over.  I
didn't know, but Susan had been doing it for years.  I was confused about
what to do with them.  What price could I put on them that wouldn't be an
insult to her or too high for our patrons!

So, I mentioned something, and Susan set me straight, said they were to be
given away, either to old people or new mothers.  She told me that would be
worth more than any money we could get, and she was right.

The first one that fall -- I'll never forget it -- it was pale blue and so
soft!  There was a ruffle on top, and the sides and bottom were scalloped.
It looked like a picture frame, borders of different patterns one inside the
next with a leafy vine in the middle.

I went along with Joan - she had the elder ministry in those days -- to
Jenny's place.  She really makes it nice for them, so homey, you know?  I
remember that day; she had Indian corn on the mantle.Isn't it strange how
some things stick with you?

My goodness, was I nervous going there the first time!  But, I suppose we're
all a bit uncomfortable with that sort of thing, seeing how frail they are
and the oxygen tubes and such.  I shouldn't talk; I'll be there soon enough
myself.

Sweetie, hold still.you're going to trip over your laces!  Someday, you'll
be able to do this all by yourself.There you go.She's such a blessing!
Anyway, the lap warmer.   I didn't know who to give it to.  I looked around
for quite a while.  There was this one little old lady in a rocking chair by
the fireplace; she didn't have anyone, and she was so sweet.  Still had a
twinkle in her eye, you know?  She was thrilled to have something hand-made,
said that shade of blue was her favorite color.  I felt great about it!  I
still can't help smiling to myself whenever I think of it.

That Christmas Susan made the cutest little pillow and afghan sets for dolls
and brought them in for the bazaar.  The pillows had a multi-colored design
on the front.  I don't know a thing about knitting myself, but they were
like miniature decorator pillows, fringed and -- I can still remember
touching them -- the backs felt like wide wale corduroy.  

Diane was one of the young mothers that year.  She had it rough; the father
of those children never lifted a finger to help.  Anyway, she came in and
picked out some things for the kids.  I had seen her before. She had been in
a few times with the little girl while the other two were in school.  I
always tried to talk to the customers.remember their names.make them feel
like there was some connection.  Anyhow, I noticed Diane looking at the sets
and went over to talk to her a bit.  She seemed so down, wouldn't even look
at me.  She rummaged through them for quite a while and then asked if she
could take a lilac one.  She said the little girl was crazy about anything
purple. Naturally, I told her she could.that's what they were there for.
She actually smiled at me.  It's the little things like that, that make you
think you're really helping.

I didn't think anymore of it.  Then, one evening - it was just after
Christmas -- I stopped at the market after work for a few things.

I saw Diane up ahead. She looked exhausted. I don't think she noticed me.
The older two were fussing with each other and the little girl was prancing
around.  She was such a beautiful child!  About three years old at the time,
I'd imagine.  I could see her looking across the store.you know how they do
at that age with their eyes wide and their mouths hanging open?  I heard
Diane tell her to go pet the puppy.  When I looked up, I saw the Wilson's.
She was with the shopping cart.  I guess she was waiting for her husband to
get something down the aisle.  Her guide dog was just standing there as
proud as you please.  Oh, he was a beauty, shiny black coat and huge brown
eyes! Murphy, that was his name.

I guess Diane didn't know that you're not supposed to pet them.  I started
toward them, but I was too far away to say anything. It all happened so
fast.

So, the little girl went running over to them as happy as all get out.  I
guess she had heard Diane and then the little one running toward them,
because she bent down and touched  her dog's head and said something like,
"No, no, sweetie, this is a working dog, we don't pet dogs when they're
working."

The child was disappointed, of course and ran back to her mother.  Diane was
just about there anyway. I guess she had heard Diane coming because she
turned right to her and explained it to her, about how you can't pet them
when the harness is on and to teach her children to always ask.  

She wasn't unkind about it, I didn't think, but Diane . Well, I can't repeat
it all, but she went away grumbling, "What?  You can't even pet the bleeping
dog?  Who the bleep does she think she is anyway?"

I couldn't believe my ears!  I didn't want Diane to see me, to know that I'd
heard her, so I ducked down an aisle.  It bothered me, you know?  I didn't
know how to deal with it.  I thought I should say something.  I mean, I
wanted to slap her mouth for one thing, and what kind of attitude is that
anyway?  We're all human, aren't we?

I said to myself, "Just let it go, it's none of your business."  When I got
up front with my cart though, there was Diane.  It was pretty crowded and we
were in different lines but next to each other.

She said hello, and we chatted about the holidays.  She thanked me for the
bazaar and went on about the kids all liking their presents.  The little one
was skipping up and down the aisle.  Diane said she particularly liked the
doll pillow and blanket, couldn't be separated from them.

So I say, "I'll have to tell Susan - she'll be tickled."  Then, I mentioned
that I had just seen her earlier.

I should have stopped right there, but for some reason I looked around just
then, and there they were, the Wilson's, headed out - her husband pushing
the cart, with her and the dog following.

"There's Susan," I said - it just came out so naturally, "Just going out the
door with the black guide dog."

Well, Diane lost all of her color.  I still couldn't stop myself, but I
thought she should know, and I think it was as tactful as it could have
been.  I said, "I want to pet him so badly, but you aren't supposed to, not
when they're wearing that harness."

=======
Email scanned by PC Tools - No viruses or spyware found.
(Email Guard: 7.0.0.21, Virus/Spyware Database: 6.18920)
http://www.pctools.com/
=======
-------------- next part --------------
A non-text attachment was scrubbed...
Name: AAA The Christmas Bazaar, revised 12-21-11.doc
Type: application/msword
Size: 46080 bytes
Desc: not available
URL: <http://nfbnet.org/pipermail/stylist_nfbnet.org/attachments/20111221/43b1188f/attachment.doc>